Michael Crawford sings this song with heart, with understanding. May we all remember the homeless during this HOHOHO season of frenzied gift giving, as we fatten our credit card balances buying crap made by child slave labor in China.

Reblogged this on Africa's Orphans and commented:
At times I wonder what wealth is all about. Those who seem to have it share none of it, which effectively means they have none. No matter how they define it themselves. It is through the worth of others that we find our wealth, in my estimation.

The imagery your blogging name creates is fantastic. It isn’t the second adjective that gives it its life. It is the first one. If we could get others to see just how true that is in their own lives, how much wealth we could create. Wealth of energy, wealth of wisdom, wealth of leveraging of networks, etc.

The homeless are made up of varied kinds of people. They put up by themselves. They may get to meet at soup kitchens if they dare venture out.But otherwise they find themselves all in the same predicament. ‘Somebody out there is crying not too far from here’ They’re around but helpless. This state of affairs is the same everywhere more so in countries under siege. One can only lament and it is harsh on the conscience of those who care. Well said Amelita!

Bless you for understanding, Hank. I was homeless once, in my 20s, but that was in California where there was always reasonably warm refuge. I think about the folks out there tonight, especially vets, and I just want to cry. But instead I pound on local legislators… Love, Amelita

Jesus is sleeping under cardboard…. Sadly enough it is so true. The homeless people are in need of warmth, attentiom, loving and caring company. They see people hurrying home with their last minute’s shopping, ready to celebrate, Thanksgiving, Christmas, whatever…Your poem is very strong. Thank you to remind us of those who are on the streets.

Again and again, Jesus is a model of humility and simplicity. He was born in an outbuilding with the animals, he rode a donkey rather than a horse, he owned almost nothing (just sandals to shake the dust from) and he had time for women and children and sinners, which wasn’t the custom. Now televangelists assure us that God wants us to be rich, and the day set aside to celebrate Jesus’ birth has turned into a consumer nuthouse and many of his followers scorn anyone different from themselves. Wow.

Shay, there are SO many ways you have summed up this poem. This is the most eloquent comment, so much history you understand, and yes, you know how I feel about televangelists and their “gospel of abundance” that means your 401K, not the abundance of love you have in your heart. The Consumer Nuthouse. I like that one. How hard would Jesus puke at this holiday? Amy